


Wrestlemania

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-31
Updated: 1999-12-31
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Inspired a wrestling comment by Lopsided Weevil on the Spenderfic list. Just a quick snippet, hope you all like it.





	Wrestlemania

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Wrestlemania by Drovar

Title: Wrestlemania  
Author: Drovar  
Email:   
Website: The Ferret Cage  
URL: http://www.ferret-cage.com/  
Rating: PG  
Notes: Inspired a wrestling comment by Lopsided Weevil on the Spenderfic list. Just a quick snippet, hope you all like it.

* * *

"Mulder" are you sure about this? Spender asked as he pulled his robe tight around him and stared across the ring at the very large man in orange leotards.

"Of course, don't worry, this is nothing. You said you wanted to work undercover didn't you?"

"Pro-wrestling, wasn't my first choice," Spender replied. "That guy's bigger than Skinner and twice as Surly."

"I said, `don't worry! I've got a plan," Mulder insisted. He reached over the ropes and rubbed Spender's shoulders. "He's what 6' 2" maybe?"

"He's 6' 8" according to the dossier that you apparently haven't taken the trouble to read."

"Okay," Mulder said after a moment's hesitation. "But, you're like 6' 3" 6' 4", right?"

"Mulder," Spender said, looking across the ring apprehensively. Crusher (the killer) Crieg was warming up. He was flexing muscles that Spender wasn't certain existed in normal humans. "I'm 6', *only 6'"

"Okay," Mulder continued. "You're what? 190 pounds to his 200? That's close."

"Uh . . . . Mulder?" Spender asked as he watched Killer Crieg (as he was affectionately called), press a pair of teenage fans over his head. He gulped a breath of air, loudly. "I'm 160 pounds wringing wet, he's 280, and all muscle."

"Ahh."

"Ahh?" Spender turned to face Mulder. "What do you mean Ahh??!!"

"Don't shriek Jeffrey, it's not manly."

"Neither is getting the snot beat out of you by `The Living Monolith' over there."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan."

Spender stared at him for a moment.

"Mulder look at us. Me: dinky FBI guy . . Him: Hulking muscled brute, is this 'plan' of yours going to get me killed?"

Mulder looked at Spender, a lazy grin on his face, then across the ring at Killer Crieg, he let out a small `eep' as the color drained out of his face. "Okay, plan B." He cupped his chin in his hand and stared placidly out into the ring.

"Plan B??!!, Spender's eyes grew wide and a line of sweat pooped out on his forehead. "What's Plan B?!"

"There is no Plan B."

Spender felt his muscles go slack as he turned around to face his doom. He could see the announcer approaching the ring.

"I'm outta here," he said as he started to climb through the ropes.

Mulder put his hand on Spender's chest, holding him momentarily in place.

"Spender, we need this. We have to find out who is supplying the wrestlers with steroids. It crosses state lines and that makes it the FBI's jurisdiction. We need credibility to get inside so we can bust up this guy. There are people dying Jeffrey."

Spender cringed at the overt `Big Brother' tone in Mulder's voice and sighed. They weren't really brothers, well hopefully, not. Actually he *really* hoped not.

"Okay, okay . . . so what's Plan C?" He stared Mulder in the eyes. The ring announcer was calling out the match, they only had a few seconds. He dropped his robe and adjusted his own tights, a ludicrous leopard print --Mulder's choice.

"Do your best," Mulder replied, and stepped back out of arm's reach.

"Do my best?!" Spender shouted. He began to climb through the ropes as the match bell rang. The sound of charging feet, *large* charging feet, froze him in his spot.

A large shadow fell over him. "Oh . . . no."

"M . . . u . . .l . . . d . . . e . . . r . . . !!", he yelled as he was dragged into the center of the ring.

*thud* *bang* *squeeze* *toss* *slam*

"Mulda -- I cnt breth, hs breking mi nec!"

"No offense there Jeff." Killer Crieg said as he picked up the stunned agent and lifted him over his head. "Maybe we can do lunch again tomorrow."

"Nne tekn." Spender managed to squeak out. "Lnch is goot."

Crusher Crieg delivered a stylistically perfect and exceptionally painful body slam. Spender bounced and lay still.

"Jeffrey get up!" Mulder yelled from the sidelines.

Spender moaned once and twitched. He opened his eyes and blinked. All he could see was a big hand reaching down . . . .

"Ack . . . " Spender scuttled toward the side of the ring, keeping just ahead of Crieg.

"Sorry Jeff, a job's a job," Crieg said apologetically as he rushed forward.

At the last moment Spender curled into a tight ball, making himself as hard to grab as possible. He felt Crieg's feet slam into his back and for a moment thought the wrestler was going to kick him to death. But, with a windmill of arms and a timbering crash, Crieg fell head first into the turnstile, bounced off, fell back over Spender, and lay still.

Spender raised one eye from his fetal tuck as the crowd grew suddenly silent.

"I won? . . . . I'm alive?"

"Pin him!" he heard Mulder yell from ringside.

Slowly and painfully Spender crawled forward and threw himself over the man's shoulders. The next few minutes were a half-conscious blur. He found himself being helped down the hallway toward the showers.

"You did good Jeff, real good. It was like you were born for this sport."

"Mulder," Spender shook his head wearily. "I ran for my life, it was pure luck that I won. All I want now is a shower."

"Sure thing 'Champ', I'll give you a hand."

Suddenly Mulder leaned close to Spender, his voice low. "Who knows, I might even drop the soap."

[END]


End file.
